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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537449">The Moon &amp; Me &amp; You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/venueska/pseuds/venueska'>venueska</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Love Island (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Drunken Kissing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:33:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/venueska/pseuds/venueska</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake is drunk. You’re perfect. And the line between love and hate is paper thin.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blake/Main Character (Love Island)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Moon &amp; Me &amp; You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i'm very aware that this is a rarepair LOL but if any of you like it let me know! i have a couple of other ideas for blake/mc and i'd love to know if i had an audience? anyway enjoy! thanks for giving this extremely niche fic a chance either way!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The moon hid behind the clouds that night. Perhaps if she hadn’t, she would have told Blake to slow down on the drinks tonight. But God only knows if it would have mattered what the moon or her mother might have said, because Blake was going to lose her mind one way or another. She figured it was for the best if she did it herself, instead of letting her eyes trail down your body that had to be made of liquid gold and starshine. If it wasn’t, then that meant something more was special about you. That Blake could see it. No way - you were simply magic, otherworldly. Yeah, that was it.</p><p>But then if her eyes would let her take them off your hips swaying in the golden light and the aqua glow bouncing off the pool onto your winning smile, she would look at Priya and her red hair dancing at her waistline. She would envy how close Hope’s emerald dress clung to her curves, how Shannon’s laugh graced her lips where Blake wanted to press her lips.</p><p>Blake pressed her eyes shut and shook off the haze. It was the alcohol, it had to be.</p><p></p><div class="media-holder media-holder-draggable media-holder-hr">
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    <p> </p>
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</div><p>The Islanders laugh and sway drunkenly in classic Love Island fashion, relieved to have the cameras off, visibly comfortable in each other’s presence. Blake envied their ability to perform casually under this much alcohol. She felt very warm in waves and very startled, forgetting momentarily how to breathe. Her arms feel like fuzz, and she realizes that perhaps it was time to exit the scene.</p><p>Avoiding making eyes at anyone new to avoid forcing a smile that would only hurt her head more, she made her way toward the Villa, away from the comfort of the cocktails.</p><p>A cool hand - or perhaps it was room temperature, but Blake was too drunk to know - brushed gently against her shoulder as she passed the pool. Your delicate voice asks her, just above the music, “Are you okay?”</p><p>She doesn’t respond. Her gaze drops down to your hand that still rests on her prickled forearm as a thoughtless kind gesture to keep her from leaning too far into the pool. Against all odds - odds being her fears and intuition and the agitating thought of your other lover lost somewhere in the crowd - Blake summons the urge to take your hand.</p><p>Your face softens, relieved that her drunk and clearly aggravated self isn’t on the defense against you like she should be. “Do you want to go inside?” you ask her, and she throws a half-hearted glance toward the Villa where she was headed. But she can’t look away for long. Your lips were so close, just feet away from hers, and they were perfect for kissing. So perfect in fact, that Blake was outraged Lucas would leave them alone for even a moment.</p><p>God, <em>Lucas</em>. For very few blissful moments she was able to forget about him. But he was back in her head now, just like the horrid weeks before she entered the Villa.</p><p>When she signed up for Love Island, Blake was hoping to be a Day One Islander. She wanted her opportunity to build a relationship not only with her partner but with the viewers, to secure her spot on the Island and live out the summer of her dreams. The show took on a whole new meaning for her when she found out she would get there later rather than sooner. She tried to look for a silver lining, saying would take this time to get to know the Islanders and what they were looking for, so she could decide if she was a good fit for any of them. </p><p>And she wasn’t. Not by a long shot.</p><p>But suddenly she didn’t care so much about being authentic. She cared about being someone somebody could love. What she didn’t realize she was doing was becoming the person she loved the most, someone she had never even met in person yet: <em>you</em>.</p><p>It infuriated her that you had your way of charming every person who set foot in the Villa. You worked every room like you formed it from atoms and it was yours to break and build back up again. You were so likable that she hated you. She hated that she could taste every poem and song she would write about you if you were her muse - most of all, she hated that she wanted you to be. Because she had always thought that if she knew nothing else at all, she knew herself. And if she liked you, she liked girls. She didn’t know she did. Or, at least, she didn’t want to know.</p><p>But what she felt tonight with your hand wrapped around hers, squeezing and swinging ever so slightly, it transcended curiosity. She felt as though she might die if she didn’t take her chance. </p><p>You lead her to the couches in the lounge and leave her side for the first time to dim the lights, thoughtlessly careful of her headache. Your caring nature is so endearing it’s infuriating. Drunk, Blake can no longer draw the line between love and hate. Whatever she feels for you, it’s stronger than her willpower.</p><p>You cross the room from the light panels, and she can’t stop watching the neon glow leaking through the large screen windows, trailing down your perfect curves and bouncing off of your perfect hair. <em>God</em>, was there an inch of you that wasn’t perfect? She had her doubts, but a smirk toys at her lips as she considers conducting some research of her own. Just to confirm because no one could possibly be <em>that </em>flawless all over, and it’s alright if it’s in the name of science... right?</p><p>Your eyebrows shoot up, noticing her stare but hopefully not the smirk. “Like what you see?” you say softly, playful, but still careful not to up the energy for her headache’s sake.</p><p>“Come closer,” Blake says, even softer. Her voice is barely above the pulse of the music coming from the ongoing party outside. It’s a wonder you could even hear her. Could you have been reading her lips? Were you watching hers as closely as she was watching yours?</p><p>You oblige, sitting between her and the arm of the couch, slipping an arm around her and using your other hand to comb your fingers through her hair. Chills run up Blake’s arms and neck, and she melts into the moment.</p><p>“You must be trashed,” you say. She can’t see you, but she can hear your smile in your voice.</p><p>“What makes you think that?” Blake replies, doing herself little to no justice when she slurs every word.</p><p>“Sober Blake hates me far too much to sit this close,” you reason. “To let me play with her hair like this, like we’re...” You frown, racking your brain for the right word. “...friends,” you say, finally.</p><p>Blake shakes her head slightly, still trying to remain as stiff as possible so you won’t take your fingers out of her hair. “Sober Blake and Drunk Blake aren’t so different,” she mumbles. “Neither of us hate you. Both of us wish we did.”</p><p>You laugh, and she swears her heart stopped pounding in her ears just so she could catch every breath you breathed because of her.</p><p>“Why would you wish that?” you ask her, nuzzling your face into her hair and noticing briefly how it smells like coconut. “Wishes are for fun things like... new shoes or first dates, not that. What a waste.”</p><p>Blake sits up out of your embrace, despite every bone in her body actively resisting to do exactly that, and turns to face you. You sit up, adjusting your seat, and you can’t help but think about how good her amber eyes look in the little light in this room. You cock a brow at her, asking wordlessly what was going on.</p><p>She comes in quick with the answer, her mind swirling with shades of neon blue and kissing you. Her lips are on yours, and you’re surprised but not displeased. It stirs a sensation in the pit of your stomach that’s familiar, but also new - this hurricane of a woman you thought would pay for your casket is sharing a breath with you right now. </p><p>The energy is high, and so are Blake’s hands, but you’re sober enough to know she’s too excited to be in control, so you end the kiss, still holding her forehead against yours in the name of not letting go.</p><p>“Unexpected,” is all you can say, laughing breathlessly.</p><p>Blake nods, then laughs. “And so overdue.” She cups your cheek with her hand and strokes it delicately with her thumb. “As I was saying,” she says, donning the infamous smirk you could definitely see this time, “Drunk Blake and Sober Blake aren’t so different. And neither of us hate you.” </p><p>You almost can’t believe it, but she winks at you. You’re almost rendered speechless, but you can’t take it seriously. The both of you collapse into a fit of giggles in each other’s arms. </p><p>“You’re the worst nemesis ever,” you tell her.</p><p>“I can be worse,” she says cheekily, pressing another kiss to your face, but this time on your nose. </p><p>And you find yourself hoping she’s right about Drunk Blake and Sober Blake being the same, because you want more than a drunken kiss. Neither of you know it, but you ask the same moon to make it come true. Blake realizes what you meant earlier tonight - wishes <em>are </em>for fun things. In that case, all thanks to you (and a little too much alcohol)... she may have just made her first real wish.</p><p></p><div class="">
  <p>You almost can’t believe it, but she winks at you. You’re almost rendered speechless, but you can’t take it seriously. The both of you collapse into a fit of giggles in each other’s arms. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re the worst nemesis ever,” you tell her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I can be worse,” she says cheekily, pressing another kiss to your face, but this time on your nose. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And you find yourself hoping she’s right about Drunk Blake and Sober Blake being the same, because you want more than a drunken kiss. Neither of you know it, but you ask the same moon to make it come true. Blake realizes what you meant earlier tonight - wishes <em>are </em>for fun things. In that case, all thanks to you (and a little too much alcohol)... she may have just made her first real wish.</p>
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